The Lady of the Lake | poem by Scott | Britannica.com The Lady of the Lake poem by Scott The Divine Comedy The Lady of the Lake, poem in six cantos by Sir Walter Scott , published in 1810. Composed primarily in octosyllabic tetrameter couplets, it mines Gaelic history to retell a well-known legend about the graceful feudal heroine Ellen Douglas. The poem, which is set in the Scottish Highlands in the 16th century, recounts the banishment and eventual restoration of the noble Douglas family. Learn More in these related articles: Corrections? Updates? Help us improve this article! Contact our editors with your feedback. MEDIA FOR: You have successfully emailed this. Error when sending the email. Try again later. Edit Mode The Lady of the Lake Poem by Scott Submit Tips For Editing We welcome suggested improvements to any of our articles. You can make it easier for us to review and, hopefully, publish your contribution by keeping a few points in mind. Encyclopædia Britannica articles are written in a neutral objective tone for a general audience. You may find it helpful to search within the site to see how similar or related subjects are covered.

Any text you add should be original, not copied from other sources. At the bottom of the article, feel free to list any sources that support your changes, so that we can fully understand their context. (Internet URLs are the best.) Your contribution may be further edited by our staff, and its publication is subject to our final approval. Unfortunately, our editorial approach may not be able to accommodate all contributions. Submit Thank You for Your Contribution! Our editors will review what you've submitted, and if it meets our criteria, we'll add it to the article. Please note that our editors may make some formatting changes or correct spelling or grammatical errors, and may also contact you if any clarifications are needed. Uh Oh There was a problem with your submission. Please try again later. Close Ave Maria! | song by Schubert | Britannica.com song by Schubert Messiah Ave Maria!, ( Latin: “Hail Mary”) , original German title Ellens Gesang (“Ellen’s Song”) III, song setting, the third of three songs whose text is derived of a section of Sir Walter Scott ’s poem The Lady of the Lake (1810) by Austrian composer Franz Schubert . It was written in 1825.

Probably because of the song’s opening words, Schubert’s melody has since been adopted for use with the traditional Roman Catholic prayer (in Latin ) of the same name. Although the song is a prayer, Schubert’s “ Ave Maria! ” was not written with religious practices or the Catholic church in mind. The Ellen of the original title was Ellen Douglas, the heroine of Scott’s long poem set in the Scottish Highlands . Having come across an 1819 edition of Adam Storck’s Das Fräulein vom See, a German translation of The Lady of the Lake, Schubert saw its suitability as a musical text and set parts of it to music, intending his songs to be performed by one singer and one pianist. Franz Schubert, watercolour by Wilhelm August Rieder, 1825. Imagno/Hulton Archive/Getty Images Even in Schubert’s own brief lifetime (he died in 1828 at age 31), “ Ave Maria! ” was considered a masterpiece, and, unlike the vast majority of his compositions, it found a publisher before his death. The song acquired its widest hearing as part of Walt Disney ’s Fantasia (1940).

Coming after the film’s segment featuring the tumult of Night on Bald Mountain , the serenity of Schubert’s song provided a calm ending. The Lady Of The Lake: Canto Ii. - The Island Poem by Sir Walter Scott - Poem Hunter The Lady Of The Lake: Canto Ii. - The Island Poem by Sir Walter Scott - Poem Hunter The Lady Of The Lake: Canto Ii. - The Island - Poem by Sir Walter Scott Autoplay next video At morn the black-cock trims his jetty wing, 'T is morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay, All Nature's children feel the matin spring Of life reviving, with reviving day; And while yon little bark glides down the bay, Wafting the stranger on his way again, Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray, And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain, Mixed with the sounding harp, O white-haired Allan-bane! II.

'Not faster yonder rowers' might Flings from their oars the spray, Not faster yonder rippling bright, That tracks the shallop's course in light, Melts in the lake away, Than men from memory erase The benefits of former days; Then, stranger, go! good speed the while, Nor think again of the lonely isle. 'High place to thee in royal court, High place in battled line, Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport! Where beauty sees the brave resort, The honored meed be thine! True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, And lost in love's and friendship's smile Be memory of the lonely isle! III. 'But if beneath yon southern sky A plaided stranger roam, Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, And sunken cheek and heavy eye, Pine for his Highland home; Then, warrior, then be thine to show The care that soothes a wanderer's woe; Remember then thy hap erewhile, A stranger in the lonely isle.

'Or if on life's uncertain main Mishap shall mar thy sail; If faithful, wise, and brave in vain, Woe, want, and exile thou sustain Beneath the fickle gale; Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, On thankless courts, or friends estranged, But come where kindred worth shall smile, To greet thee in the lonely isle.' IV. As died the sounds upon the tide, The shallop reached the mainland side, And ere his onward way he took, The stranger cast a lingering look, Where easily his eye might reach The Harper on the islet beach, Reclined against a blighted tree, As wasted, gray, and worn as he. To minstrel meditation given, His reverend brow was raised to heaven, As from the rising sun to claim A sparkle of inspiring flame. His hand, reclined upon the wire, Seemed watching the awakening fire; So still he sat as those who wait Till judgment speak the doom of fate; So still, as if no breeze might dare To lift one lock of hoary hair; So still, as life itself were fled In the last sound his harp had sped. V.

Upon a rock with lichens wild, Beside him Ellen sat and smiled.- Smiled she to see the stately drake Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, While her vexed spaniel from the beach Bayed at the prize beyond his reach? Yet tell me, then, the maid who knows, Why deepened on her cheek the rose?- Forgive, forgive, Fidelity! Perchance the maiden smiled to see Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, And stop and turn to wave anew; And, lovely ladies, ere your ire Condemn the heroine of my lyre, Show me the fair would scorn to spy And prize such conquest of her eve! VI. While yet he loitered on the spot, It seemed as Ellen marked him not; But when he turned him to the glade, One courteous parting sign she made; And after, oft the knight would say, That not when prize of festal day Was dealt him by the brightest fair Who e'er wore jewel in her hair, So highly did his bosom swell As at that simple mute farewell.

Now with a trusty mountain-guide, And his dark stag-hounds by his side, He parts,-the maid, unconscious still, Watched him wind slowly round the hill; But when his stately form was hid, The guardian in her bosom chid,- 'Thy Malcolm! vain and selfish maid!' 'T was thus upbraiding conscience said,- 'Not so had Malcolm idly hung On the smooth phrase of Southern tongue; Not so had Malcolm strained his eye Another step than thine to spy.'- 'Wake, Allan-bane,' aloud she cried To the old minstrel by her side,- 'Arouse thee from thy moody dream! I 'll give thy harp heroic theme, And warm thee with a noble name; Pour forth the glory of the Graeme!' Scarce from her lip the word had rushed, When deep the conscious maiden blushed; For of his clan, in hall and bower, Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower. VII. The minstrel waked his harp,-three times Arose the well-known martial chimes, And thrice their high heroic pride In melancholy murmurs died.

'Vainly thou bidst, O noble maid,' Clasping his withered hands, he said, 'Vainly thou bidst me wake the strain, Though all unwont to bid in vain. Alas! than mine a mightier hand Has tuned my harp, my strings has spanned! I touch the chords of joy, but low And mournful answer notes of woe; And the proud march which victors tread Sinks in the wailing for the dead. O, well for me, if mine alone That dirge's deep prophetic tone! If, as my tuneful fathers said, This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed, Can thus its master's fate foretell, Then welcome be the minstrel's knell.' VIII. 'But ah! dear lady, thus it sighed, The eve thy sainted mother died; And such the sounds which, while I strove To wake a lay of war or love, Came marring all the festal mirth, Appalling me who gave them birth, And, disobedient to my call, Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall.

Ere Douglases, to ruin driven, Were exiled from their native heaven.- O! if yet worse mishap and woe My master's house must undergo, Or aught but weal to Ellen fair Brood in these accents of despair, No future bard, sad Harp! shall fling Triumph or rapture from thy string; One short, one final strain shall flow, Fraught with unutterable woe, Then shivered shall thy fragments lie, Thy master cast him down and die!' IX. Soothing she answered him: 'Assuage, Mine honored friend, the fears of age; All melodies to thee are known That harp has rung or pipe has blown, In Lowland vale or Highland glen, From Tweed to Spey-what marvel, then, At times unbidden notes should rise, Confusedly bound in memory's ties, Entangling, as they rush along, The war-march with the funeral song?- Small ground is now for boding fear; Obscure, but safe, we rest us here.

My sire, in native virtue great, Resigning lordship, lands, and state, Not then to fortune more resigned Than yonder oak might give the wind; The graceful foliage storms may reeve, 'Fine noble stem they cannot grieve. For me'-she stooped, and, looking round, Plucked a blue harebell from the ground,- 'For me, whose memory scarce conveys An image of more splendid days, This little flower that loves the lea May well my simple emblem be; It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose That in the King's own garden grows; And when I place it in my hair, Allan, a bard is bound to swear He ne'er saw coronet so fair.' Then playfully the chaplet wild She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled. X. Her smile, her speech, with winning sway Wiled the old Harper's mood away. With such a look as hermits throw, When angels stoop to soothe their woe He gazed, till fond regret and pride Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied: 'Loveliest and best! thou little know'st The rank, the honors, thou hast lost! O.

might I live to see thee grace, In Scotland's court, thy birthright place, To see my favorite's step advance The lightest in the courtly dance, The cause of every gallant's sigh, And leading star of every eye, And theme of every minstrel's art, The Lady of the Bleeding Heart!' XI. 'Fair dreams are these,' the maiden cried,- Light was her accent, yet she sighed,- 'Yet is this mossy rock to me Worth splendid chair and canopy; Nor would my footstep spring more gay In courtly dance than blithe strathspey, Nor half so pleased mine ear incline To royal minstrel's lay as thine. And then for suitors proud and high, To bend before my conquering eye,- Thou, flattering bard! thyself wilt say, That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. The Saxon scourge, Clan- Alpine's pride, The terror of Loch Lomond's side, Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay A Lennox foray-for a day.'- XII.. The ancient bard her glee repressed: 'Ill hast thou chosen theme for jest!

For who, through all this western wild, Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled? In Holy-Rood a knight he slew; I saw, when back the dirk he drew, Courtiers give place before the stride Of the undaunted homicide; And since, though outlawed, hath his hand Full sternly kept his mountain land. Who else dared give-ah! woe the day, That I such hated truth should say!- The Douglas, like a stricken deer, Disowned by every noble peer, Even the rude refuge we have here? Alas, this wild marauding Chief Alone might hazard our relief, And now thy maiden charms expand, Looks for his guerdon in thy hand; Full soon may dispensation sought, To back his suit, from Rome be brought. Then, though an exile on the hill, Thy father, as the Douglas, still Be held in reverence and fear; And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear That thou mightst guide with silken thread. Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread, Yet, O loved maid, thy mirth refrain! Thy hand is on a lion's mane.'- XIII.

Minstrel,' the maid replied, and high Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 'My debts to Roderick's house I know: All that a mother could bestow To Lady Margaret's care I owe, Since first an orphan in the wild She sorrowed o'er her sister's child; To her brave chieftain son, from ire Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, A deeper, holier debt is owed; And, could I pay it with my blood, Allan! Sir Roderick should command My blood, my life,-but not my hand. Rather will Ellen Douglas dwell A votaress in Maronnan's cell; Rather through realms beyond the sea, Seeking the world's cold charity Where ne'er was spoke a Scottish word, And ne'er the name of Douglas heard An outcast pilgrim will she rove, Than wed the man she cannot love. XIV.

'Thou shak'st, good friend, thy tresses gray,- That pleading look, what can it say But what I own?-I grant him brave, But wild as Bracklinn's thundering wave; And generous, --save vindictive mood Or jealous transport chafe his blood: I grant him true to friendly band, As his claymore is to his hand; But O! that very blade of steel More mercy for a foe would feel: I grant him liberal, to fling Among his clan the wealth they bring, When back by lake and glen they wind, And in the Lowland leave behind, Where once some pleasant hamlet stood, A mass of ashes slaked with blood. The hand that for my father fought I honor, as his daughter ought; But can I clasp it reeking red From peasants slaughtered in their shed? No! wildly while his virtues gleam, They make his passions darker seem, And flash along his spirit high, Like lightning o'er the midnight sky.

While yet a child,-and children know, Instinctive taught, the friend and foe,- I shuddered at his brow of gloom, His shadowy plaid and sable plume; A maiden grown, I ill could bear His haughty mien and lordly air: But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, In serious mood, to Roderick's name. I thrill with anguish! or, if e'er A Douglas knew the word, with fear. To change such odious theme were best,-- What think'st thou of our stranger guest?-- XV. 'What think I of him?--woe the while That brought such wanderer to our isle! Thy father's battle-brand, of yore For Tine-man forged by fairy lore, What time he leagued, no longer foes His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow The footstep of a secret foe. If courtly spy hath harbored here, What may we for the Douglas fear? What for this island, deemed of old Clan-Alpine's last and surest hold?

If neither spy nor foe, I pray What yet may jealous Roderick say?- Nay, wave not thy disdainful head! Bethink thee of the discord dread That kindled when at Beltane game Thou least the dance with Malcolm Graeme; Still, though thy sire the peace renewed Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud: Beware!-But hark! what sounds are these? My dull ears catch no faltering breeze No weeping birch nor aspens wake, Nor breath is dimpling in the lake; Still is the canna's hoary beard, Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard- And hark again! some pipe of war Sends the hold pibroch from afar.' XVI. Far up the lengthened lake were spied Four darkening specks upon the tide, That, slow enlarging on the view, Four manned and massed barges grew, And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, Steered full upon the lonely isle; The point of Brianchoil they passed, And, to the windward as they cast, Against the sun they gave to shine The bold Sir Roderick's bannered Pine.

Nearer and nearer as they bear, Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air. Now might you see the tartars brave, And plaids and plumage dance and wave: Now see the bonnets sink and rise, As his tough oar the rower plies; See, flashing at each sturdy stroke, The wave ascending into smoke; See the proud pipers on the bow, And mark the gaudy streamers flow From their loud chanters down, and sweep The furrowed bosom of the deep, As, rushing through the lake amain, They plied the ancient Highland strain. XVII. Ever, as on they bore, more loud And louder rung the pibroch proud. At first the sounds, by distance tame, Mellowed along the waters came, And, lingering long by cape and bay, Wailed every harsher note away, Then bursting bolder on the ear, The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear, Those thrilling sounds that call the might Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight. Thick beat the rapid notes, as when The mustering hundreds shake the glen, And hurrying at the signal dread, 'Fine battered earth returns their tread.

Then prelude light, of livelier tone, Expressed their merry marching on, Ere peal of closing battle rose, With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows; And mimic din of stroke and ward, As broadsword upon target jarred; And groaning pause, ere yet again, Condensed, the battle yelled amain: The rapid charge, the rallying shout, Retreat borne headlong into rout, And bursts of triumph, to declare Clan-Alpine's congest-all were there. Nor ended thus the strain, but slow Sunk in a moan prolonged and low, And changed the conquering clarion swell For wild lament o'er those that fell. XVIII. The war-pipes ceased, but lake and hill Were busy with their echoes still; And, when they slept, a vocal strain Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, While loud a hundred clansmen raise Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. Each boatman, bending to his oar, With measured sweep the burden bore, In such wild cadence as the breeze Makes through December's leafless trees. The chorus first could Allan know, 'Roderick Vich Alpine, ho!

fro!' And near, and nearer as they rowed, Distinct the martial ditty flowed. XIX. Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances! Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine! Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line! Heaven send it happy dew, Earth lend it sap anew, Gayly to bourgeon and broadly to grow, While every Highland glen Sends our shout back again, 'Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!' Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade; When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the mountain, The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. Moored in the rifted rock, Proof to the tempest's shock, Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow; Menteith and Breadalbane, then, 'Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!' XX.

Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied; Glen Luss and Ross-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. Widow and Saxon maid Long shall lament our raid, Think of Clan-Alpine with fear and with woe; Lennox and Leven-glen Shake when they hear again, 'Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!' Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands! Stretch to your oars for the ever-green Pine! O that the rosebud that graces yon islands Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine! O that some seedling gem, Worthy such noble stem, Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow! Loud should Clan-Alpine then Ring from her deepmost glen, Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!' XXI. With all her joyful female band Had Lady Margaret sought the strand.

Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, And high their snowy arms they threw, As echoing back with shrill acclaim, And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name; While, prompt to please, with mother's art The darling passion of his heart, The Dame called Ellen to the strand, To greet her kinsman ere he land: 'Come, loiterer, come! a Douglas thou, And shun to wreathe a victor's brow?' Reluctantly and slow, the maid The unwelcome summoning obeyed, And when a distant bugle rung, In the mid-path aside she sprung:- 'List, Allan-bane! From mainland cast I hear my father's signal blast. Be ours,' she cried, 'the skiff to guide, And waft him from the mountain-side.' Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright, She darted to her shallop light, And, eagerly while Roderick scanned, For her dear form, his mother's band, The islet far behind her lay, And she had landed in the bay. XXII.

Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head! And as the Douglas to his breast His darling Ellen closely pressed, Such holy drops her tresses steeped, Though 't was an hero's eye that weeped. Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue Her filial welcomes crowded hung, Marked she that fear-affection's proof- Still held a graceful youth aloof; No! not till Douglas named his name, Although the youth was Malcolm Graeme. XXIII. Allan, with wistful look the while, Marked Roderick landing on the isle; His master piteously he eyed, Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, Then dashed with hasty hand away From his dimmed eye the gathering spray; And Douglas, as his hand he laid On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said: 'Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy In my poor follower's glistening eye?

I 'll tell thee:-he recalls the day When in my praise he led the lay O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, While many a minstrel answered loud, When Percy's Norman pennon, won In bloody field, before me shone, And twice ten knights, the least a name As mighty as yon Chief may claim, Gracing my pomp, behind me came. Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud Was I of all that marshalled crowd, Though the waned crescent owned my might, And in my train trooped lord and knight, Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays, And Bothwell's bards flung back my praise, As when this old man's silent tear, And this poor maid's affection dear, A welcome give more kind and true Than aught my better fortunes knew. Forgive, my friend, a father's boast,- O, it out-beggars all I lost!' XXIV. That brighter in the dew-drop glows, The bashful maiden's cheek appeared, For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard.

The flush of shame-faced joy to hide, The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide; The loved caresses of the maid The dogs with crouch and whimper paid; And, at her whistle, on her hand The falcon took his favorite stand, Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye, Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly. And, trust, while in such guise she stood, Like fabled Goddess of the wood, That if a father's partial thought O'erweighed her worth and beauty aught, Well might the lover's judgment fail To balance with a juster scale; For with each secret glance he stole, The fond enthusiast sent his soul. XXV. Of stature fair, and slender frame, But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. The belted plaid and tartan hose Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose; His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, Curled closely round his bonnet blue.

Trained to the chase, his eagle eye The ptarmigan in snow could spy; Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, He knew, through Lennox and Menteith; Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, And scarce that doe, though winged with fear, Outstripped in speed the mountaineer: Right up Ben Lomond could he press, And not a sob his toil confess. His form accorded with a mind Lively and ardent, frank and kind; A blither heart, till Ellen came Did never love nor sorrow tame; It danced as lightsome in his breast As played the feather on his crest. Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth And bards, who saw his features bold When kindled by the tales of old Said, were that youth to manhood grown, Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, But quail to that of Malcolm Graeme. XXVI. Now back they wend their watery way, And, 'O my sire!' did Ellen say, 'Why urge thy chase so far astray?

And why so late returned? And why '- The rest was in her speaking eye. 'My child, the chase I follow far, 'Tis mimicry of noble war; And with that gallant pastime reft Were all of Douglas I have left. I met young Malcolm as I strayed Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade Nor strayed I safe, for all around Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground. This youth, though still a royal ward, Risked life and land to be my guard, And through the passes of the wood Guided my steps, not unpursued; And Roderick shall his welcome make, Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. Then must he seek Strath-Endrick glen Nor peril aught for me again.' XXVII. Sir Roderick, who to meet them came, Reddened at sight of Malcolm Graeme, Yet, not in action, word, or eye, Failed aught in hospitality. In talk and sport they whiled away The morning of that summer day; But at high noon a courier light Held secret parley with the knight, Whose moody aspect soon declared That evil were the news he heard.

Deep thought seemed toiling in his head; Yet was the evening banquet made Ere he assembled round the flame His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, And Ellen too; then cast around His eyes, then fixed them on the ground, As studying phrase that might avail Best to convey unpleasant tale. Long with his dagger's hilt he played, Then raised his haughty brow, and said:- XXVIII. 'Short be my speech; - nor time affords, Nor my plain temper, glozing words. Kinsman and father,-if such name Douglas vouchsafe to Roderick's claim; Mine honored mother;-Ellen,-why, My cousin, turn away thine eye?- And Graeme, in whom I hope to know Full soon a noble friend or foe, When age shall give thee thy command, And leading in thy native land,- List all!-The King's vindictive pride Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, Where chiefs, with hound and trawl; who came To share their monarch's sylvan game, Themselves in bloody toils were snared, And when the banquet they prepared, And wide their loyal portals flung, O'er their own gateway struggling hung.

Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead, From Yarrow braes and banks of Tweed, Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide, And from the silver Teviot's side; The dales, where martial clans did ride, Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. This tyrant of the Scottish throne, So faithless and so ruthless known, Now hither comes; his end the same, The same pretext of sylvan game. What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye By fate of Border chivalry. Yet more; amid Glenfinlas' green, Douglas, thy stately form was seen. This by espial sure I know: Your counsel in the streight I show.' XXIX. Sought comfort in each other's eye, Then turned their ghastly look, each one, This to her sire, that to her son.

The hasty color went and came In the bold cheek of Malcohm Graeme, But from his glance it well appeared 'T was but for Ellen that he feared; While, sorrowful, but undismayed, The Douglas thus his counsel said: 'Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, It may but thunder and pass o'er; Nor will I here remain an hour, To draw the lightning on thy bower; For well thou know'st, at this gray head The royal bolt were fiercest sped. For thee, who, at thy King's command, Canst aid him with a gallant band, Submission, homage, humbled pride, Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside. Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, Ellen and I will seek apart The refuge of some forest cell, There, like the hunted quarry, dwell, Till on the mountain and the moor The stern pursuit be passed and o'er,'- XXX. 'No, by mine honor,' Roderick said, 'So help me Heaven, and my good blade! No, never! Blasted be yon Pine, My father's ancient crest and mine, If from its shade in danger part The lineage of the Bleeding Heart!

Hear my blunt speech: grant me this maid To wife, thy counsel to mine aid To Douglas, leagued with Roderick Dhu, Will friends and allies flock enow; Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, Will bind to us each Western Chief When the loud pipes my bridal tell, The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, The guards shall start in Stirling's porch; And when I light the nuptial torch, A thousand villages in flames Shall scare the slumbers of King James!- Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away, And, mother, cease these signs, I pray; I meant not all my heat might say.- Small need of inroad or of fight, When the sage Douglas may unite Each mountain clan in friendly band, To guard the passes of their land, Till the foiled King from pathless glen Shall bootless turn him home again.' XXXI.

There are who have, at midnight hour, In slumber scaled a dizzy tower, And, on the verge that beetled o'er The ocean tide's incessant roar, Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream, Till wakened by the morning beam; When, dazzled by the eastern glow, Such startler cast his glance below, And saw unmeasured depth around, And heard unintermitted sound, And thought the battled fence so frail, It waved like cobweb in the gale; Amid his senses' giddy wheel, Did he not desperate impulse feel, Headlong to plunge himself below, And meet the worst his fears foreshow?- Thus Ellen, dizzy and astound, As sudden ruin yawned around, By crossing terrors wildly tossed, Still for the Douglas fearing most, Could scarce the desperate thought withstand, To buy his safety with her hand. XXXII.

Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy In Ellen's quivering lip and eye, And eager rose to speak,-but ere His tongue could hurry forth his fear, Had Douglas marked the hectic strife, Where death seemed combating with life; For to her cheek, in feverish flood, One instant rushed the throbbing blood, Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, Left its domain as wan as clay. 'Roderick, enough! enough!' he cried, 'My daughter cannot be thy bride; Not that the blush to wooer dear, Nor paleness that of maiden fear. It may not be,-forgive her, Chief, Nor hazard aught for our relief. Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er Will level a rebellious spear. 'T was I that taught his youthful hand To rein a steed and wield a brand; I see him yet, the princely boy! Not Ellen more my pride and joy; I love him still, despite my wrongs By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues. O. seek the grace you well may find, Without a cause to mine combined!' XXXIII.

Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode; The waving of his tartars broad, And darkened brow, where wounded pride With ire and disappointment vied Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light, Like the ill Demon of the night, Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway Upon the righted pilgrim's way: But, unrequited Love! thy dart Plunged deepest its envenomed smart, And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, At length the hand of Douglas wrung, While eyes that mocked at tears before With bitter drops were running o'er. The death-pangs of long-cherished hope Scarce in that ample breast had scope But, struggling with his spirit proud, Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud, While every sob-so mute were all Was heard distinctly through the ball. The son's despair, the mother's look, III might the gentle Ellen brook; She rose, and to her side there came, To aid her parting steps, the Graeme. XXXIV.

Then Roderick from the Douglas broke- As flashes flame through sable smoke, Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, So the deep anguish of despair Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. With stalwart grasp his hand he laid On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid: 'Back, beardless boy!' he sternly said, 'Back, minion! holdst thou thus at naught The lesson I so lately taught? This roof, the Douglas. and that maid, Thank thou for punishment delayed.' Eager as greyhound on his game, Fiercely with Roderick grappled Graeme. 'Perish my name, if aught afford Its Chieftain safety save his sword!' Thus as they strove their desperate hand Griped to the dagger or the brand, And death had been-but Douglas rose, And thrust between the struggling foes His giant strength:-' Chieftains, forego! I hold the first who strikes my foe.- Madmen, forbear your frantic jar! What!

is the Douglas fallen so far, His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil Of such dishonorable broil?' Sullen and slowly they unclasp, As struck with shame, their desperate grasp, And each upon his rival glared, With foot advanced and blade half bared. XXXV. Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, As faltered through terrific dream. Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, And veiled his wrath in scornful word:' Rest safe till morning; pity 't were Such cheek should feel the midnight air! Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, Roderick will keep the lake and fell, Nor lackey with his freeborn clan The pageant pomp of earthly man. More would he of Clan-Alpine know, Thou canst our strength and passes show.- Malise, what ho!'-his henchman came: 'Give our safe-conduct to the Graeme.' Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold:' Fear nothing for thy favorite hold; The spot an angel deigned to grace Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place.

Thy churlish courtesy for those Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. As safe to me the mountain way At midnight as in blaze of day, Though with his boldest at his back Even Roderick Dhu beset the track.- Brave Douglas,-lovely Ellen,-nay, Naught here of parting will I say. Earth does not hold a lonesome glen So secret but we meet again.- Chieftain! we too shall find an hour,'- He said, and left the sylvan bower. XXXVI. Old Allan followed to the strand - Such was the Douglas's command- And anxious told, how, on the morn, The stern Sir Roderick deep had sworn, The Fiery Cross should circle o'er Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor Much were the peril to the Graeme From those who to the signal came; Far up the lake 't were safest land, Himself would row him to the strand.

He gave his counsel to the wind, While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind, Round dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled, His ample plaid in tightened fold, And stripped his limbs to such array As best might suit the watery way,- XXXVII. Then spoke abrupt: 'Farewell to thee, Pattern of old fidelity!' The Minstrel's hand he kindly pressed,- 'O, could I point a place of rest! My sovereign holds in ward my land, My uncle leads my vassal band; To tame his foes, his friends to aid, Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme Who loves the chieftain of his name, Not long shall honored Douglas dwell Like hunted stag in mountain cell; Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare,-- I may not give the rest to air! Tell Roderick Dhu I owed him naught, Not tile poor service of a boat, To waft me to yon mountain-side.' Then plunged he in the flashing tide.

Bold o'er the flood his head he bore, And stoutly steered him from the shore; And Allan strained his anxious eye, Far mid the lake his form to spy, Darkening across each puny wave, To which the moon her silver gave. Fast as the cormorant could skim. The swimmer plied each active limb; Then landing in the moonlight dell, Loud shouted of his weal to tell. The Minstrel heard the far halloo, And joyful from the shore withdrew. The Lady of the Lake The Lady of the Lake First Edition, First Impression: The Lady of the Lake; A Poem. By Walter Scott, Esq. Edinburgh: Printed for John Ballantyne and Co. Edinburgh; and Longman, Hurst, Rees and Orme, and William Miller, London; By James Ballantyne and Co. Edinburgh 1810. Composition | Synopsis | Reception | Links Composition Scott began writing The Lady of the Lake in August 1809 while holidaying with his wife, Charlotte , and daughter, Sofia, in the Trossachs and along the shores and islands of Loch Katrine, the very scenes that would provide the poem's setting.

With this new poem, though, Scott wished to depend less on local colour and spectacular action and to attain greater psychological depth in his characterization. As he worked on the poem, Scott felt that, in this respect, it would only be a partial success. While he was confident that he had brought King James V and the clan chieftain Roderick Dhu vividly to life, he feared that the romantic hero, Malcolm Graeme would remain 'a perfect automaton' (letter to Lady Abercorn, March 14, 1810). Although initial progress on the poem was rapid, work was delayed when his children Walter, Charles, and Anne fell dangerously ill with an inflammatory fever. Only when they had fully recovered was he able to complete the poem which was published on May 8, 1810. Back to top Synopsis The narrative of the poem concerns the struggle between King James V and the powerful clan Douglas. The King has banished the entire family from his realm, including James of Douglas, the Earl of Bothwell, who had been his protector during his youth. The Earl and his daughter Ellen take refuge with Roderick Dhu in his castle on an island in Loch Katrine.

At the beginning of the poem a mysterious knight calling himself James Fitz-James arrives at the castle and is granted hospitality. During his brief stay, he falls in love with Ellen but finds rivals for her affections in Roderick himself and in Malcolm Graeme, a young knight loyal to the King but moved by sympathy at the plight of Douglases. It is Malcolm that Ellen favours. Facing attack from royal forces for sheltering Douglas, Roderick gathers his clan. Douglas, though, is loath to bring disaster upon his host, and sets out for the royal court at Stirling, determined to surrender. Fitz-James returns and offers to take Ellen to safety but is told that she loves another. He nonetheless presses on her a ring which, he says, will obtain any favour from the King. Travelling to Stirling, Fitz-James meets and quarrels with Roderick. In the ensuing fight, Roderick is mortally wounded and carried to Stirling as a captive. Ellen presents herself at court and, showing the ring, pleads for her father's pardon. She discovers that Fitz-James is no other than the King himself.

The King and Douglas are reconciled through her intervention, and Ellen and Malcolm marry. Back to top Reception The Lady of the Lake marked the pinnacle of Scott's popularity as a poet. With 25,000 copies sold in eight months, it broke all records for the sale of poetry, and Scott's fame spread beyond Great Britain to the United States. The critics almost matched the enthusiasm of the public. In the Edinburgh Review, the habitually glacial Francis Jeffrey felt it far exceeded its predecessors: the story was 'constructed with infinitely more skill and address' and there was 'a larger variety of characters, more artfully and judiciously contrasted'. For the British Critic, the story itself was more interesting than in Scot's earlier poems, but the poem's real charm lay in 'painting real manners; and displaying the character of an interesting because singular people'. Reservations were expressed by the Critical Review which thought Canto III superfluous and by the Rev. Francis Hodgson in the Monthly Review, for whom the composition careless and the language barbaric. The public, though, continued to devour the poem.

Sightseers flocked to Loch Katrine, and a hotel was built at Callander catering for those who wished to visit 'Ellen's Isle'. The Lady of the Lake created a vogue for the Trossachs and is primarily responsible for the area's enduring popularity with tourists. 4, Reed Gallery, Dunedin Public Libraries, New Zealand Case 23 Realia Case 4 - Lady of the Lake Sir Walter Scott. The lady of the lake: a poem. [1st edition]. Edinburgh: Printed for John Ballantyne and Co., Edinburgh; and Longman, Hurst, Rees and Orme, and William Miller, London; by James Ballantyne and Co., Edinburgh, 1810. Scott began writing The lady of the lake while on holiday in the Trossachs, the very scene which would provide the poem’s setting. The writing of this poem was interrupted when Scott’s children, Walter, Charles and Anne became seriously ill with an inflammatory fever, but was completed upon their return to health. This poem marks the pinnacle of Scott’s fame as a poet, with 25,000 copies sold in eight months.

The narrative concerns the struggle between King James V and the powerful clan Douglas who have been banished from his realm. The heroine of the title is Ellen Douglas, daughter of the outlawed Lord James of Douglas. Sir Walter Scott. The lady of the lake: a poem. [1st edition]. Edinburgh: Printed for John Ballantyne and Co., Edinburgh; and Longman, Hurst, Rees and Orme, and William Miller, London; by James Ballantyne and Co., Edinburgh, 1810. Sir Walter Scott Essay Examples | Kibin Sir Walter Scott Essay Examples 2,804 total results The European Influence in the State of Virginia The European history of Virginia began in 1570 with a short-lived Spanish mission probably located on the York River. In 1584, Sir Humphrey Gilbert obtained a grant from Queen Elizabeth to colonize all of North America not occuppied by the Spanish or French. The first expedition to the vast new territory, named Virginia in...

323 words 1 page An Analysis of the Nobility of the Characters of Sir Gawain in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and Sir Lancelot in Morte d'Arthur The nobility of Sir Gawain from " Sir Gawain and the Green Knight " and Sir Lancelot from "Morte Darthur" diminishes once their treasonous behavior contradicts their chivalric oath to their lord due to conflicts between the ethics of courtly love and thethics of their knightly code. These two characters... 1,261 words A Biography of Sir Walter Scott, a Scottish Novelist and Poet Biography on Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) Walter Scott was a Scottish novelist and poet. He worked as a translator, editor, biographer, and critic, and wrote novels and poems, making him one of the most prominent figures in English romanticism. He was born in Edinburgh, August 15, 1771. He was trained as a lawy... 603 words Prejudice towards Jews in Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scotts Prejudice, a very powerful word, can be best defined as preconceived judgment or opinion.

Many times prejudice targets various religious affiliations, such as people of the Jewish faith. In Sir Walter Scotts Ivanhoe, the many prejudices show strong abomination and hatred towards the Jews. After the Battle of Hastings and... 745 words A Biography of Scottish Novelist Sir Walter Scott Sir Walter Scott Scottish Novelist 1771 - 1832 Sir Walter Scott was born on August 15, 1771 in Edinburgh, Scotland. Scott created and popularized historical novels in a series called the Waverley Novels. In his novels Scott arranged the plots and characters so the reader enters into the lives of both great and ordina... 435 words The Summary of Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott Questions 1 the summary of the book, the plot, the conflict climax 2. which character i mostly Identified myself with 3. how does the setting of the story affect the story, what if the story was set somewhere else, would make a difference? 4. what kind of conflicts are there? How would have jesus reacted to one of the c...

965 words A Character Analysis of Wilfred of Ivanhoe in Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott Character Analysis of Wilfred of Ivanhoe Wilfred of Ivanhoe, a heroic English prince, through out the story undergoes many mental and physical changes. His respect, bravery and loyalness lead him to strive for success. By following in his fathers footsteps, Ivanhoe tremendously matures through out the novel. Ivanhoe wa... 449 words An Introduction to the History of Frederick Douglass Frederick Douglass' Name & the Duality of His Nature Frederick Douglass was an emancipated slave who passed from one master to another until he finally found the satisfaction of being his own; he went through almost as many names as masters. His mother's family name, traceable at least as far back as 1701 (FD, 5) was... 1,207 words 3 pages The Lady of the Lake by Sir Walter Scott (1771 - 1832) The Lady of the Lake by Sir Walter Scott (1771 - 1832) About Schubert's Ave Maria Composer: Franz Schubert.

Words: Sir Walter Scott History Franz Schubert (1797-1829) wrote the music for "Ave Maria" in 1825 as a setting for words by Scottish author Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832). Sir Walter Scott Click to enlarge (644kb) In 1810, Scott published his long narrative poem, The Lady of the Lake. This work describes a fictional struggle in the sixteenth-century between several Scottish Highland clans, some loyal to King James V of Scotland, and some not. The beautiful young heroine, Ellen Douglas, is forced to hide out in a mountain cave, along with her father, James Douglas. In that cave, she sings a song, "Hymn to the Virgin", a prayer to the Virgin Mary for help and comfort. This song occurs in Canto 3 of The Lady of the Lake, stanza 29. Philip Adam Storck translated The Lady of the Lake into German in a book published in Essen, 1819.

Storck's translation then became the basis for Schubert's book of songs, Liederzyklus vom Fräulein vom See (Song Cycle Of "The Lady Of The Lake"), composed in 1825. There the "Ave Maria" song is called "Ellens dritter Gesang" ("Ellen's Third Song"). An edition of the songs set to both the German words by Storck and to Scott's original English words was published in 1826 as Schubert's Op. 52, under the title Sieben Gesänge aus Walter Scotts Fräulein vom See (Seven Songs from Walter Scott's Lady of the Lake). This was, financially, one of Schubert's more successful projects. The publisher paid him 20 pounds sterling, a nice fee in those days. Schubert's "Ave Maria" is one of the most popular songs in the world, although often sung to words different from those of Schubert/Storck/Scott, or performed in instrumental versions with no words at all. The arrangement on this website by Reinhold Jentsch for voice and guitar is a sure crowd-pleaser.

If no singer is on hand, get a violinist to play the voice part. By the end of the song there won't be a dry eye in the house. Text Hear for a maid a maiden’s prayer, And for a father hear a child ! Ave Maria ! Remarks Some consider it incorrect to use "Ave Maria" as the title to this song, preferring to use Schubert's own title, "Ellens dritter Gesang" ("Ellen's third Song"), since the song was originally not a setting of the traditional "Ave Maria Gratia plena.." prayer of the Catholic church. However, Sir Walter Scott's words contain references to that Latin prayer, and many settings of the Latin prayer using Schubert's music are in constant use worldwide. This music will always be known as "Schubert's Ave Maria"! See Also This Daisyfield.com website also has information and free downloads related to the other great setting of "Ave Maria": Gounod's . References Duncan, Edmondstoune, Schubert (biography), E.P. Dutton & Co., New York, 1905 (281 pages), pp.

141-143, in books.google.com . [See pp. 141-143]. Scott, Sir Walter, The Complete Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Cambridge Edition, ed. Horace E. Scudder, Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston, 1900, (582 pages). ["Hymn to the Virgin": p. 180, lines 713-740. Image of Sir Walter Scott: frontispiece.]. W. Werckmeister (1873-?), editor, Deutsches Lautenlied, A. Köster Verlag, Berlin, 1916 edition. ["Ave Maria": pp. 604-606].

Question: Ellen Douglas is the heroine of which poem by Sir Walter Scott?
Answer: The Lady of the Lake